A Brambleberry Manor Christmas - Rosie Green Page 0,12

if she was going to turn the offer down. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes. You’ve been such a great help. And I do need an assistant.’

‘I was a sous chef once,’ she said quickly.

I looked at her in surprise. ‘Wow, really? You never mentioned that. Whereabouts?’

‘Oh…the Swan Hotel?’

‘Here in Sunnybrook?’

She nodded. ‘It was a couple of years ago, in between accountancy jobs. I did some cleaning as well for a while.’ She was avoiding my eye and I wondered if she was embarrassed because she’d done a bit of everything.

‘Sous chef! Well, in that case, please come and work with me. It was obviously meant to be. I guess you could even supply me with a reference,’ I added, trying to be professional about it.

Flo looked overcome. Her face flushed bright red, and for a moment, she seemed lost for words.

I smiled at her. ‘Well? Please say yes.’

‘Okay.’ At last, she looked at me. ‘Yes.’ She laughed, the doubt on her face replaced by a look of cautious delight. ‘I’d love to come and work for you, Jenny.’

So that was that. Flo was lovely and I felt I’d turned a corner with the business.

At last, the future seemed to be looking brighter…

CHAPTER FOUR

Brambleberry Manor on this late December afternoon is truly a sight to behold. All twinkly Christmas lights around the main entrance, and a dusting of snow on the trees and on the lawn in front of the house.

Flo is captivated enough to lay down her phone with a sigh.

‘It looks like a fairy-tale palace,’ she breathes, as we glide along the drive.

‘I know. I wish Tavie could see it.’

I think sadly of how Tavie used to love putting up the Christmas decorations with me. She’d be jumping up and down on the designated morning, hardly able to wait. But I don’t even want to suggest it this year, in case she gives me that withering look that I’ve come to dread…the look that tells me I’m a completely inadequate substitute for a mum and a dad…

I drive round to the courtyard and park by the back door so that we can unload the crates and boxes. More people have arrived, if the number of cars parked there is anything to go by.

I’ve managed to solve the problem of the four extra guests at dinner tonight. The local butcher, who I’m getting to know quite well these days, did me proud; there’s a much larger fillet of beef stowed safely in the ice-box in the boot of the car, and I’m already planning to make a beef tartar starter with the smaller fillet. I had to work fast to get the black cherry ice-cream ready in time, but Flo’s eyes lit up when she tasted it and I trust her palette one hundred per cent. It will make a good accompaniment for the roulade.

Flo springs out of the car, while I text Tavie, telling her I should be back by ten and that I’ll see her then. (I’m hopeful, rather than certain, that she’ll be back when she promised.) Who is this Mal? Perhaps he really is her boyfriend? But no, she’d have told me if he was. In fact, I suspect she’d have taken a twisted delight in telling me, knowing that it would freak me out a little! But I haven’t got time to stew over Tavie. Dinner is to be served at seven-thirty, which means Flo and I have a mountain of work to get through in the next four hours.

I sigh. At least I won’t be sitting at home, watching the clock and worrying about Tavie.

By the time I’ve finished texting, Flo has already taken most of the crates and boxes into the manor house kitchen.

I’m in awe of Flo’s energy. She’s twelve years my senior, but she puts me to shame. These days, an exciting Saturday night for me involves putting my feet up with a glass of wine or two in front of Strictly Come Dancing. Flo, on the other hand, is more than likely out doing the dancing…at a club with friends. I guess she’s one of those people who can burn the candle at both ends and (just about) get away with it.

Inside the manor house, the entrance hall is decked out to perfection. An enormous Christmas tree nestles beside the grand staircase, giving off a glorious pine scent. It’s at least ten feet tall, hung with stunning globes of silver and red, and sparkling with fairy-lights. Gifts are piled up around the